


Days Recounted

by littlesnapeplushie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Marauders' Era, POV Multiple, Romance, Slow Build, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnapeplushie/pseuds/littlesnapeplushie
Summary: All fails, when one summer day Hermione finds herself with no memories in the living room of a strange and infuriating wizard...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfic is purely for entertainment and I'm not making money with it. That being said, I hope you find it enjoyable! I'd be happy to hear your thoughts :)

**Huge thanks** to **Sunset Whispers** for **beta'ing** this chapter **.** All remaining mistakes are to blame on me, since I couldn't stop tinkering with it... 

* * *

_You made a wish and I fell out of time._

— Avicii (The Days)

* * *

 

'WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?' an angry voice shouted.

Barely conscious the first thought surfaced.  _I am alive._  Wincing due to the pain that lanced through her back, more thoughts began to appear.  _He didn't kill me. It seems like he's the reasonable type - ask questions first, take action later._  Her head pounded viciously as she desperately tried to move and open her eyes.

'How  _the fuck_  did you get into my house?' the same voice hissed, now very close to her. She felt the tip of his wand dig into her throat.

She used all her strength to barely rasp out two words, 'I-I was…'

And then everything went black.

* * *

Footsteps. Somebody seemed to be pacing through the room. When she tried to turn her head, a sharp pain shot through her neck and down her spine. She let out a dreadful scream. The footsteps stopped.

And the darkness engulfed her once more.

* * *

Somebody tried to force something down her throat. It felt like liquid and had a bitter taste to it.  _I bet it's poison_ , she thought. With her last bit of strength she tried to resist swallowing it and nearly forgot to breathe in the process. She felt her consciousness slowly slipping away.  _Please, don't -_

And yet the terrifying blackness drew her in even more deeply than before.

* * *

One of the first sensations her brain registered was that she was lying on something soft and rather comfortable. As she tried to pry her eyes open that felt like they were glued shut, a rather reassuring thought occurred to her.  _Must be my bed. Haven't had nightmares in weeks. This one felt so real..._  She remembered the angry voice before falling into the infinite darkness. Shuddering, her eyes finally opened and she slowly took in her surroundings.

Her room was flooded in sunlight.  _Oh no, it must be nearly noon already! I'm late for work! If my boss finds out that I…_ Her thoughts halted abruptly when she realised that the sunlight was coming into the room from her right side - not from the left like it did in her room.

Dread suddenly flooded through her.  _Don't be silly, Hermione_ , she chastised herself.  _I must have moved in my sleep._  Her head was still pounding and she sighed knowing the dull throbbing pain wouldn't be going away just yet.  _Well, that's nothing new_ , she thought. When she looked up to see the dark wooden ceiling, she felt a wave of fear crashing over her.  _This is definitely not my room._

Trying not to panic, she turned her head to the right where her eyes found a wooden coffee table with a dirty rug underneath it. Behind the table stood an old murky brown armchair.

A boy with raven-black hair sat in it asleep, his right hand clutching a dark wand. She had never seen him before, and she certainly didn't remember entering this house.  _Unless that dream had been real… and the angry voice belonged to him. No, that couldn't be_ , she thought. Not wanting to know if she was right she decided to flee while she still had the chance. Slowly and soundlessly, she reached for her wand which was nestled in the right pocket of her jeans - only to find it missing. Fear coursed through her veins and she bolted up abruptly to get onto her feet.

Suddenly a violent ringing flooded the silent room. The boy's eyes flew open and he sprang from his armchair, wand held ready to hex her. Only then did she realise that she was still lying on a couch, her arms and feet firmly held in place by invisible bonds, while the shrill alarm sound continued.

_Shit._

* * *

**Fasten your seat belts, please. Here we go!**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer applies. J.K. Rowling rules the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

  _Everyone's a stranger in this world._

— Stefanie Heinzmann

* * *

"Back in the land of the living?" The boy's silky voice sounded soft, yet it was an undeniably dangerous tone. Black eyes stared at her, cold and emotionless.

When Hermione opened her mouth to speak, no sound came. "I will remove the silencing spell now. Then you will tell me who you are and why you're here. If you lie, I will know." She blinked, trying to remove her eyes from his, her head dizzy with fear and pain. "No need to fear the truth", he purred at her and released the spell.

"I-I am H-Hermione G-" The dull throbbing pain in her skull suddenly sharpened and threatened to split her head open. She cried out in pain.

The boy raised an eyebrow at this.

 _Was something preventing her from speaking?_ A few tears escaped the witch and trickled down her cheeks, while she tried to compose herself.

"I'm s-sorry. I don't re-remember why I'm here. I-I've never been here before." She sobbed, trying to recollect her memories. All she could find however, were fleeting images behind a thick white fog that made no sense to her.

"I o-only remember that I was very a-afraid. Everything was black. Now I don't even know who I a-am…" She hiccoughed and directed her gaze back at the boy who was towering over her. Her hazel brown eyes shone bright with tears when they met his black ones. He regarded her for several moments and after some hesitation, murmured: " _Legilimens._ "

Hermione's world exploded with white stars and screamed as if she was under the Cruciatus curse. A second later, the boy was thrown backwards by an invisible force through the room against the wall. The girl's screams lasted for several minutes while she wriggled under the invisible bonds.

Slowly, the boy regained consciousness and scrambled up to his feet, hand reaching for his wand. When he saw that Hermione hadn't left, but was still lying on the couch, he was momentarily too confused to move. At first he had thought that the girl had attacked him deliberately with wandless magic. Alas, it seemed he was wrong, for she was clearly still trembling in pain.

Hesitantly, he took a few steps forward and frowned. He had only been able to see into her mind for one or two seconds before being thrown through the room. What he had seen astounded him. Or better: what he had  _not_  seen. For there was clearly nothing in her mind. It was completely blank, like a white sheet of paper.

"W-what just happened?" She asked in a small voice, as if afraid of the answer she would find. She had stopped screaming, but the stream of tears continued to flow down her face freely.

"That's what I asked you first.", he replied smoothly. After another moment's consideration, he removed the binding spell. "You can sit up now.", he said and held out his hand to help her up. She turned her head to look at him. His face was mostly impassive, but his black eyes held confusion and weariness. She took his hand and with some struggle and his help, finally managed to sit up.

"It seems your memories have been tampered with. I was only able to see it for a second, but the impression I got was that of white nothingness." He sat down in the armchair again and crossed his arms, frowning. In a quiet voice he continued. "I admit, I don't have much experience with Legilimency. I've tried it a couple of times before, though, and I have never encountered something like today. I literally flew across the room from the sheer force of resistance in your brain."

Hermione was still trembling from the pain she just experienced, when he concluded his recount in a soft voice: "This is no ordinary magic."

Hearing his voice confirming her earlier realization about her memory loss, send a shiver down her spine.  _No ordinary magic._  That almost certainly meant Dark Magic then. She closed her eyes in an effort to dispense the building hysteria inside her.

 _Breathe. In and out. In and - out._  She continued to concentrate on her breathing. Finally, her tears stopped and she felt herself marginally relaxing.  _Everything will be alright. I will find a way to reverse the memory loss. Then I will know who attacked me._  She opened her eyes again and turned her gaze to the dark-haired boy slumped in the old armchair.  _First, concentrate on the present. There must be a reason, why I'm here in this room._

Clearing her throat, she asked hesitantly: "So… uhm… who are you?"

Upon hearing the girl's voice, the boy snapped out of his thoughts and turned his gaze on her. "I should be the one asking the questions." He stood up and turned away from her, facing the crammed bookcase on the wall.

"Do you still remember your name?", he asked her while his eyes searched the books in front of him. "Uhm… yes. it's Hermione. I just remember, because I already answered you the first time. But I don't recall what my surname is." She bit her lip and watched the boy uncertainly.

„So, Hermione then?", he asked her somewhat uncertain. He glanced side-ways at her and saw her nodding in response.

"That feels right. Now that I heard you say it, I can feel it. Maybe, my memories are still there… They could be suppressed by a powerful memory charm." He stepped back from the book case and regarded her thoughtfully.

"That could be true. In that case, you just have to find a powerful Legilimens who can help you bring your memories back."

Reaching for a battered copy of "Mind Magick" he continued: "And to answer your earlier question: My name is Severus Snape."

 _What a weird name_ , Hermione thought.  _Never heard anybody called "Severus" before._  She started.  _Silly me, of course I haven't heard it before!_ _I have no memories. None. Zip. Nada. Zilch._

She gritted her teeth and her mind raced on.  _At this rate I don't even know who I am or what I do or what I've done — oh my god, what if I am a really bad person and killed someone? It could be even worse! I mean how would I know, right? I could be a contract killer and belong to a big mafia group with a boss who obliviates me all the time, so that nobody knows what's happened, so that even I don't know who I killed — and oh my god, what if —_

"Stop it!", a voice hissed. "Whatever you're thinking of, stop thinking it. You're on the verge of hyperventilating!" Hermione snapped back into reality and found herself looking at Severus who by now, had a terrible scowl on his face. "I-I didn't even realize. I'm sorry."

Severus closed his book at that and replied in a bored tone: "As if  _being sorry_  makes any difference. You're still in my house and you're  _still_  a nuisance. Memories or not, get a grip on yourself."

 _What -? How dare he -_  "Well, I'd like to see how you would cope if your brain was wiped of everything.  _Everything!_  I don't even remember who I bloody am, what I do or what I've done-"

Her voice rose into a shrill shriek until Severus interrupted her in a low and dangerous voice. "If you want to feel sorry for yourself, kindly remove your person from my house. I spent the last two days feeding you potions, so that once conscious, you would leave again and leave me in peace. I'm not a bloody nurse, nor am I your therapist."

She barely finished processing his words before he continued once again, in a bored tone: "Take your wand with you - it's on the coffee table." With a lazy flick of his wand, her disillusioned wand appeared before her.

Hermione looked at him uncertainly. Why was he giving it back to her now? And giving it back so freely? She may have lost her memories, but she was certain she hadn't forgotten how to hex somebody into next week.  _That somebody being him, of course._ Then she remembered his earlier statement.  _He took care of me for two days. And he didn't even know me._  She worried her bottom lip, while contemplating what she should do.  _Should I trust him? Or should I just run as fast as -_

Severus had seen the look of pure confusion on her face melt into one of determination before changing back into that of uncertainty.  _Merlin, the girl is like an open book. I can practically hear her thoughts._

"Before you get too excited - you won't be able to use your wand for another three days at least. If you do use it, you will die instantly."

She gaped at him. "You - you would seriously kill me if I used my wand? Even if it's just a simple Lumos? Or Aguamenti? Or Leviosa?" Reaching for her wand, she stood abruptly and glared at him. "I didn't even  _do_  anything to you! What kind of person are you to just — " She was nearly shouting when the rest of her words suddenly disappeared into silence.

"I must say", Snape stated silkily, " _Silencio_  is  _rapidly_  becoming my favorite spell." At that, Hermione's eyes burned with anger and resentment. In the split second's hesitation she used to decide how to hex him best, he plucked her wand out of the air with a non-verbal  _Expelliarmus_.

"If you had actually listened to what I said earlier, you would have realized that it wouldn't be me who would've killed you once you set that hex free", he drawled while lazily crossing his legs. "And I'm sure a hex was on the tip of your tongue."

Severus was used to it by now, of course - most people who knew him, wanted to hex him - even if they didn't really dare to. He was the one who everyone knew, even back then when he was a first year.  _The first-year who knew more about the Dark Arts than any seventh year student._

Smirking, he gestured with his left hand to the free sofa. "You may want to sit. I'm feeling magnanimous enough to tell you what I discovered about your condition earlier, when I was playing nursemaid." Hermione rolled her eyes at this. Still fuming and not quite trusting, she continued to stand and glared at him, with her hands firmly resting on her hips.

Snape curled his lips at her reaction and sneered. "Muggles have a saying that whatever doesn't kill them makes them stronger. It's bullshit, of course. That belief is  _especially_  wrong in your condition. Whatever happened - before you made a nuisance of yourself in my house - nearly drained  _all_  of your magic. Your suffering from serious - nearly fatal - magical depletion."

All blood drained from Hermione's face. This, whatever this was, was serious. Severus' earlier comment ' _This is no ordinary magic_ ' still rang in her ears. Not trusting her legs to hold her, if more information of this kind left Severus' mouth, she ungraciously plopped down on the sofa.

"That is why", he locked eyes with hers, "you  _mustn't_  perform any magic. In your current state, you will be able to kill yourself with, as you said, ' _just a simple Lumos'_." Hermione nodded dumbly and tried to focus on not hyperventilating out of sheer shock.

"The little magic you have in you right now, is all that keeps you alive. To leave this most critical stage, you will at least require three full days. But even then, it will be unwise for you to perform magic." Snape slid a finger over his thin lips, his face completely blank, even though he was deep in thought. "In my estimation - ", he locked eyes with her again, " - it will take you a fortnight to recover completely."

 _A fortnight to recover completely. Merlin, help me. Fourteen days. Fourteen_ freaking _days!_

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Opening them again, she searched all her jeans' pockets quickly to see if she had anything useful with her. Like her own biography. Or a key to a Gringotts vault filled with gold. Or even just a bloody Knut.

But she didn't.

_I don't know who I am. I don't even know where I am, except that this house belongs to a guy who's called Severus Snape and who is a git. I don't have any money with me and no clue where to go. I can't even take the blasted Knight Bus, summon water or switch the light on with a bloody Lumos!_

She realized then, that she was utterly lost and utterly helpless.

* * *

**to be continued...**

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer applies for this, as well as for all following chapters. All hail J.K. Rowling, the rightful owner of Harry Potter.

* * *

_Judgements prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances_.

— Wayne Dyer

* * *

Twenty-three minutes passed in thick silence.

Hermione, in an effort to calm herself had counted each of the muffled old clock's tick tock - but her plan to wait out the chilling silence until finally Snape spoke to her first, failed miserably. She glanced up at him through her lashes and saw him lost to the world, engrossed in his thick tome about mind magic.

_How can he stay so calm when I have to use every ounce of my strength to keep from screaming out in frustration?_

She cleared her throat several times. No reaction.

"Where to stay for fourteen days, I wonder?", she mused aloud, stealing another glance at him.

Silence greeted her question.

Snape seemed to be well versed in ignoring people - he had not even twitched a muscle at the sound of her voice. There really seemed no way around it - she would have to launch a direct verbal missive.

Right before the first word left her mouth, however, she realised with a start that she couldn't very well berate him for ignoring her. If he turned down her request to stay, then where was she to go?

Letting out a shaky breath, Hermione started speaking to him in a slightly high-pitched voice.

"So, say, uhm… Severus - I mean we're obviously on first name basis, aren't we? "

At that she realised with growing horror that her brain was not, indeed, in control of her mouth. A hysterical giggle escaped her.

"I mean suppose I owe you a life debt now", she tried to amend - but her rising hysteria had other ideas. Indeed, it took the definition of babbling to new heights.

"You know, with you taking care of me and giving me all the right potions when I crashed into your living room - you said two days ago, right? - and unconscious, too, not the most reassuring sight, I am sure. And  _still_  you performed so admirably! I don't believe that I have properly thanked you yet, so just let me affirm to you how much it means-", Hermione gulped for air.

That many words were definitely to much for one short breath, she thought grimly. And yet she was powerless to stop herself.

"-to me and how grateful I am that you helped me! I mean I could've crashed into any living room as far as I know, so I'm really glad I crashed into yours - not that I  _wanted_  to disturb you, mind, but I don't think there are so many selfless and helpful people around, so again, thank you so very - "

Suddenly Severus' head snapped up and dark unyielding eyes bored into hers.

"Keep your pitiful attempts at emotional manipulation to yourself, witch", came the terse reply, interrupting her mid-sentence. "And if you indeed, have something to say, then one  _short_  sentence should suffice."

Severus - no, Snape - for it seemed, they were indeed not on first name basis; stared at her, his black eyes glittering with disdain. Hermione felt acutely how his opinion of her had dropped several levels. If aversion were measured in terms of a house's storeys, she no doubt, lived in its basement.

Snape scrutinised her for a while longer, snorted slightly and then turned back to the page he had been reading, unperturbed.

_What- ? That's it? He's not going to say anything else? And did he - did he just laugh at me? How can anyone be so - so unfeeling?_

Hermione was sure that at this moment, she was at her most unflattering - her hair frizzing from her agitation, her mouth agape and yet - she just couldn't seem to close it.

_What an insufferable git!_

She hadn't even asked about staying and already he seemed annoyed with her beyond reason. What would he do when she finally worked up her courage again to ask him? Hex her? That did seem like his natural inclination.

 _Well, better find out how many hexes he knows_ , Hermione resolved, _just to be on the safe side._

Struggling to adopt the same blank expression as her counterpart, she ventured in what she hoped was a cool and disinterested voice: "So, which year are you in at Hogwarts?"

A tense pause ensued.

"…We  _are_  in Britain, aren't we?", asked Hermione in a shaky voice, unable to keep her agitation under control. "The only magical school here is Hogwarts, is it not?", she continued in a faintly shrill voice.

"Starting 6th", an irritated voice replied.

_Thank Merlin._

Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief.

She was indeed in Britain it seemed, and seeing as the thought of being somewhere else had just agitated her so much, she had most probably called Britain her home her whole life.

Also, a boy who just finished 5th year - no matter how intimidating and dangerous he seemed - was far from being deadly yet. All in all, she seemed to be reasonably safe here.

_Time to ask him - to make him - let me stay._

Hermione lifted her head again to launch her request - and found, to her surprise, Snape already watching her with a sardonic smile on his face.

His expression made her feel like a first-year who got caught after curfew. Thus, she shifted uneasily, averting her eyes to the side, hoping against hope he would refocus on the old pages in front of him.

Eighteen seconds crawled by until her patience thinned to a fragile icicle. Hermione shattered it with a snapped: "What?"

"You undoubtedly think yourself in safe hands of a wizard who cannot perform any deadly or permanently harmful spells", Snape responded in a low voice.

His sardonic smile morphed into a self-satisfied smirk as he continued: "I really am most apologetic to disappoint you, but your gratitude to Merlin was sadly unjustified."

_I said that aloud?_

As his implied threat sank in, Hermione's face paled instantly and her hands began to tremble. All of her courage melted away as slowly as a snowflake in hell.

_Of all the places I could have ended up in, I wind up in the living room of an aspiring criminal. Merlin, help me!_

"You are welcome to stay here by the way, if you were  _wondering_. Unless, of course, you're too afraid of me - which is a perfectly sensible thing to be."

At that, Hermione sprung abruptly to her feet, clenched her hands into small fists in an effort to calm herself and let out a strangled, "T-Thank you." Poised to flee the presence of the unpredictable wizard, she searched the room with eyes darting around quickly to find a possible exit. Finding none, she asked in a hesitant and small voice: "If you could show me the bathroom, please, I'd be much obliged."

When Snape's only answer was to pick up his wand and flick it lazily into her direction, all oxygen left Hermione's lungs and she became as utterly still as a dead fly on the wall.

_Thump!_

She swirled around so fast, she felt her head going dizzy. Where before there had been only a row of rickety shelves gracing the wall, there was now a dark staircase visible, presumably leading to her chosen place of hiding - the bathroom - and she leapt out of the oppressing living room as fast as her weak legs would carry her.

When Hermione had safely locked herself into the narrow, dimly lit bathroom, she braced herself on the sink and began crying hysterically, as confusion, fear and intense anxiety swept over her.

* * *

By the time she had returned to the living room - if you could even call it that, so inviting did it seem - from her nervous breakdown, Snape was already busying himself in the kitchen, cracking eggs and preparing tea.

"Not keen on starving yourself?" Before she could form a coherent reply, however, he gestured to the cupboards and said: "Make yourself useful then and search for something edible in there."

One tin of peas was not yet past the expiry date and she handed it to him. "It seems like you also have trouble remembering how to open a tin. Better relearn right now", Snape sneered at her and pushed the can back into her hands.

Annoyed, but somewhat calmer after her earlier breakdown and hysterical outburst of tears, she rummaged through the time-worn drawers for a tin-opener.

* * *

Later that evening, after an unsatisfying meal of mushed peas and a salty omelette, Hermione glanced uncertainly at Snape, debating with herself wether an answer to her question that had been nagging on her since she had woken up, was worth the risk of losing a couple of limbs or not.

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

"So what day is it today?", she inquired in an even voice.

"Is this your pathetic attempt at so-called small talk?", Snape countered back, annoyed.

Sighing, Hermione returned her gaze to the bookshelf in front of her scanning the titles only. As she feared igniting Snape's ire, she did not actually dare to take one out and start reading it.

"I trust you haven't  _forgotten_  how to read?", his voice floated through the resonating silence.

"If not, than perhaps you could apply your extraordinary abilities to retrieving the newspaper from below the coffee table to catch up on whatever it is that has you asking inane questions and standing there as anxious as a first-year."

While inwardly bristling, Hermione ducked her head and returned to the threadbare sofa, where she snatched up the abandoned newspaper from the dusty rug.

When her eyes fell on the headlines, she experienced the nauseating feeling of a most unpleasant déjà vu and the urge to vomit.

_FIVE MUGGLES MYSTERIOUSLY KILLED IN EDINBURGH_

_DARK MARK SIGHTED OVER CAMDEN IN LONDON_

_MINISTRY'S AUROR DEPARTMENT ISSUES RED ALERT_

_NEW RESTRICTIONS ON EMIGRATION IMMEDIATELY EFFECTIVE_

Hermione closed her eyes briefly in an effort to chase away the words that had burned themselves into her mind. It was a fruitless endeavour, as she could see the headlines as clearly behind her eyelids as on print. She clenched the newspaper in her hands until her knuckles stood out white.

Just when she was about to fling the offending paper across the room, she realised last minute she had forgotten to check the date. Squinting one eye she roughly searched for it, when a new wave of nausea and panic swept over her.

It was dated the 25th of August, 1976.

* * *

**to be continued...**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are not so sure about the context of the year 1976: canon dictates that Hermione is born in 1979, while Severus is born in 1960. The First War ends in 1981.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

_I'm just a lost boy, not ready to be found._

— Troye Sivan

* * *

Hermione's eyes flew open, slowly focusing and dissolving the haze.

"Would you kindly desist in making such an extraordinary nuisance out of yourself?", came the grumbled greeting. "Or are you just unable to resist the undoubtedly strong attraction to screaming like a madwoman?"

"Wh-What happened?", she rasped out, rising gingerly to sit up. Snape scowled at her.

"What is it that has you repeating my questions back at myself? If I knew, I wouldn't bother."

With barely a flick of his wrist Snape summoned her a glass and conjured some water with a non-verbal  _Aguamenti_. Still scowling, he held it out to her. Hermione promptly accepted the glass - if a tad surprised - in silent gratitude. While gulping down the blissfully cool liquid, she found herself contemplating her present companion.  _Seems like I owe him my gratitude yet again. He has made it very clear that he finds me vastly annoying, yet he is still helping me._ Her own thoughts spoke so loudly to her, however, that she was nearly completely oblivious of Snape giving her a piece of  _his_  mind.

"—flung it across the room. Merlin knows what the paper did to offend your delicate sensibilities. Worked yourself into hysterics, screaming until my ears—"

 _Such a nasty countenance, though, not to mention his hair._  Fixating her stare on his lank, inky and unkempt hair, she wondered with intensifying contempt, how anyone could run around with this grotty hair?

"—stupefied you, albeit I would have revelled in using a number of other more efficient curses—"

_Underneath all his dangerous and infuriating behaviour he does have a conscience. Mhm, what a surprising discovery._

"—will repay me. Since I've had enough of your hysterics, I will retire to my bedroom. If you even dare to disturb my sleep I'll—"

 _Merlin's underpants, could he rant,_ her befuddled mind surmised. Already drowsy and worn down from her first nerve-wrecking day of being herself, she barely noticed that her groggy figure had slumped back down on the couch of its own accord and that sleep was gradually threatening to overtake her. As if by magic, her hand was relieved of the unbearably heavy weight of her glass and a soft blanket appeared in which she eagerly snuggled down deeper.  _Maybe after I sleep, I'll just wake up to my real, hopefully annoyingly boring life._

* * *

Sunbeams danced accompanied by floating specks of dust through a stuffy and tiny bedroom. A muffled groan escaped the boy under the duvet when the sun light whispered encouragingly against his face. The morning's sun enthusiasm was met by disheveled black hair and a grumpy face.

_Merlin's balls, surely Cruciatus couldn't be much worse than waking up in the morning._

Snuggling deeper into his bed covers his mind stopped him abruptly of meeting blissful sleep.  _I still have an insufferable guest in the living room._ He sighed. That blasted girl had had such a desperate and yet resigned look on her face when he had briefed her about her magical depletion that Severus had felt compelled to help and offer her his murky brown couch for the night. And by extension for whole two weeks, if needed.

Her expression had reminded him of the lost and abandoned dog that had wandered the streets of his neighbourhood when he had been eight years old. He had regularly snuck out some treats for the lone, smoke-grey retriever - whom he had liked to call Ghost - until mid-winter. The snow blizzard had been ruthless and the icy cold had cut through every brick and every wall right to the bones. His father had flat out refused to take in "a worthless flee bag" until the storm passed. After the blizzard had finally died down, he had instantly started his search for Ghost, despite the sun already setting. He had found him, curled up, in their regular meeting spot under the decaying bridge. Dead.

It was the first time Severus had experienced the horrifying grief of losing a friend.

So, when Severus had spotted that despairing expression on Hermione's face, he had been horrified to notice a tangible tug at his heartstrings - not that he would ever admit to that.

He yawned loudly.  _Hermione._  What a weird name. Nobody who named his child after Shakespeare should be taken seriously, in his opinion. Whoever had approved of this name at the registry was clearly ignorant.  _What am I still doing in my bed when a strange girl is in my living room? Get up, now!_

Severus was a fiercely private person and he would be damned if a mysterious girl with a Shakespearian name that fell from the sky and into his living room would change the first thing about that.  _No extra time snooping for her!_

Still yawning, Severus reluctantly parted with his warm duvet with the sweet promise of granting himself a lie-in on another day.  _As soon as I kick that witch out of my house,_ he thought grimly. Severus shuffled through the corridor to the bathroom to jump into a quick, cold shower. Only that, a continued blissful silence, two cups of strong black tea (no coffee, thank you) and a slowly eaten breakfast could persuade him to fully wake up.

After he changed into a new set of clean clothes, which - much to Snape's dismay - were as shabby as his former, he trotted down the stairs.  _Not even one piece of new clothing,_ he sneered silently.

"Good morning!" A perky bright voice greeted his audible footsteps on the wooden stairs.

"I didn't know what you'd like to eat, so I started making a little bit of everything: scrambled eggs, bacon - " The insufferable girl prattled away with amazing speed while busying herself in the small kitchen.

Severus blinked.  _What is going -_

His thoughts were interrupted by registering her incessant stream of words.

"You see, breakfast is my favourite time of the day - you know, you have a whole new day stretched out before you with hundreds of possibilities and you feel so energised and there is so much you can learn and do - anyway, I thought I'd repay some of your kindness by preparing the food and laying out the table. If not for you, I don't know where I would be right now— "

He stared at her incredulously.

No one  _ever_  talked to him in the morning. Not even his mother had. They simply knew better. To say that Severus was not a morning person would be an understatement. Facing a furious and yet sleepy Snape who couldn't keep his temper in check until he had woken up properly, was not an attractive prospect to behold.

Admittedly, no one made him breakfast either - except if you counted the house-elves at Hogwarts, which Severus didn't. But, as delicious as the warm toast and fried bacon smelled - it was only a small compensation to the loss of a blissful silence.

The bright-eyed and bushy-tailed girl seemed to have belatedly realised that her enthusiastic greeting had been utterly ignored and turned around to face him.

"What - do - you -  _think_  - you're - doing?", he hissed dangerously.

"Eh… breakfast?"

He narrowed his eyes, daring her to provoke him further.

"I take it you're … not a morning person then?", she ventured tactfully.

A grumble was her only answer.

„I'm sorry, I didn't know tha— "

Severus clenched his fists, ignoring the mounting head ache and replied, very nearly shouting: „Witch!  _Stop. Talking_."

„Oh, right, sor— "

The withering glare he shot her was enough for Hermione to clamp her hands above her mouth to physically restrain herself from making another sound. While she finished frying the bacon, Severus waved his wand and muttered a few words to procure himself his most loved black breakfast tea with lemon. After glancing in Hermione's direction and grumbling some obscenities under his breath, he grudgingly fixed a second cup for Hermione and made his way to the kitchen table.

* * *

After his first bite Severus had to admit that the earlier rather appealing smell had misled him entirely, since the home-made breakfast was anything but. The toast was burned, the omelette was way too salty and Merlin alone knew what had happened to the bacon.

_If this constitutes her repaying me with gratitude, I never want to see her taking revenge._

Nonetheless, Severus did not complain and only compressed his mouth to a thin, grim line, gritted his teeth and continued eating. He had no wish to provoke her to speak and there was no point in wasting food, no matter how disgusting it was. The few measly pounds he had inherited had yet to last him two long uncomfortable years. At least the ridiculously high mortgage for their house - he inwardly sneered at that glorified description - had been paid off entirely. The one real valuable property he did have, however, was the former Prince's family book collection.

Severus had just finished his second cup of tea, when his  _unwelcome_  guest decided once again to attempt conversation and gleam information.

"So… are you parents off travelling? Or do you normally stay alone around here?"

Her annoying, bright tone did nothing to raise Severus' spirits.  _No, they're dead, as they should be._

"I've been staying here on my own for some time now." There, she could do with that piece of information whatever she wanted. It was open to every sort of interpretation.

"Ah, I see… I hope you don't mind me prying, but are you Muggle-born by any chance? While I was preparing breakfast I noticed that the kitchen, like the rest of your home, looks quite ordinary for a wizard. Except for the books of course." At the mentioning of books, the girl got a faraway look in her eyes.

Thoroughly annoyed now by this slip of a witch, who managed to ask him about his parents twice in one breath, Severus snapped at her: "I don't recall having given you permission to peruse the kitchen. Funnily enough, I don't recall having agreed to an interrogation in my own house either."

In fact, there was nothing to say about his parents, except one word: disappointment.

He had never gotten along well with his father, since his magic had begun to show very early when he had barely been three years old. For his father, a filthy, weakly and uneducated Muggle, Severus was everything his father Tobias detested: talented, daring and literally, magical. Tobias -he struggled with the word ‚Dad' - had either ignored him or treated him like dirt under his shoes. Severus had always preferred the latter. It gave him a decent excuse to hate his father right back. Mostly, though, Tobias was just too drunk to give a damn about anything other than getting his hands on more booze and on one of the hookers two streets down.

Hesitantly, the annoying-girl-who-did-not-remember cleared her throat and searched his eyes with her warm brown ones. "You know, I am really sorry for intruding and I will try to not annoy you any—"

Severus snorted inelegantly. "That would a perfect example of futile efforts, I am sure."

His response caused a spark of rebellion to burn in her eyes and her mouth to tighten. Even though she quickly regained her inner balance, Severus was once more convinced that if she were sorted at Hogwarts, she no doubt would end up a self-important Gryffindor, who displayed all her emotions for the world to see.

In a carefully controlled voice, his irritating guest spoke again. "I was just trying to tell you that since I have a wand, it should be the easiest thing ever to go to Ollivanders or the Ministry to find out which name's it's register—"

"Indeed, it is the easiest thing to take the overly cheap train down to London and even easier to directly apparate to Diagon Alley without a licence. You really do stun me with your brilliant deduction", Severus interrupted her in a voice dripping with sarcasm. He undeniably enjoyed taunting her, especially since he rarely had the opportunity for that away from Hogwarts and all his usual targets. It almost made him want to smile.

Taking a deep breath, albeit gripping her fork a tad too tight for comfort, she replied in a surprisingly steady voice: "When I know for sure what my name is and who my family are, I can retrace my steps from there as well as cease my  _futile_  efforts and let you go back to your undoubtedly exciting life."

"How thoughtful of you", he remarked in a contemptuous tone. "Since you are unable to apparate at this moment and I'm not intent on lending you 30 pounds which I'll never get back, I suppose you better learn how to turn your futile efforts into worthwhile ones."

The girl's face dropped, apparently not having considered any possible difficulties with either option beforehand. She seemed to chew on her thoughts while slowly finishing her cup of tea. Meanwhile, Severus hastily choked down the last few bites of his inedible breakfast. It had definitely been one of his worst, albeit not his worst one, he reflected. At least there had been  _something_  to eat.

When he had been small there were many winters when they only had one meal per day, as they could not afford more and his father stupidly forbade his mum from using even the tiniest bit of magic that could have improved their lives.  _Like summoning water and thereby cutting the utility bill. Like repairing and transfiguring clothes that would not only have saved money, but a lot of humiliation and embarrass—_

"How old do you think I am?" The small witch's high-pitched voice cut through his thoughts.

"Not nearly old enough to pester people with this question", came his disgruntled response.

"Hmm." She tilted her head to the right, watching him speculatively. "So you think it likely that I'm around the same age as you?"

Severus snorted, surprised. "Subtlety is lost on you. How come that  _my_  age is of such interest to you?"

"Pardon?", she replied, visibly confused. "I'm not asking about you, I'm asking about myself. If I'm not off age yet, then there should be a Trace on my wand."

Severus lifted a sardonic eyebrow at that.  _Hadn't they already discussed her magic at length?_

After worrying her lip, she added: "Obviously I'm unable to perform magic right now, but if you were able to cast a spell with my wand - well, at least it would alert the authorities and they would notify me using my real name. That would be a start at least." She turned her hopeful brown eyes on him, silently pleading with him to cooperate.

Abruptly, he stood and stretched his pale had toward her. "In the mornings there are rarely Muggles out in the street. Where's your wand?"

Hermione was just about to give him the polished piece of wood, when he stopped her and let his own hand fall back. She put it on the table.

"Do you have any idea what yours is made of? Compatibility depends—" Hermione was just about to open her mouth, when he observed, "No need to elaborate. You don't remember and you can't guess."

She nodded unhappily and rested her head on her folded hands, while staring at her wand with intense longing. Severus glanced at her and sighed deeply.  _These will either be a huge success or fourteen very long days._

With deliberate slow motion, he reached out to pick up Hermione's wand.

* * *

**to be continued...**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first attempt at Snape's POV. What do you think? Is it worth reading? :)


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